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I was spending a nice evening at home with my mother, I wrote, knowing that she may read this. It was a Saturday night but hey- do I have anything better to do? No I do not.

We were watching TV. More accurately, we were not watching TV. It was on but I was at the computer where I may have been one of the last humans on the planet to finally see an episode of Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee. It stars some Jerry Seinfeld fella you may have heard of. Mom was reading the newspaper.

Reading the daily newspaper is a lost art, one that frankly deserves to be lost. Think about it. The paper gets printed in the morning, full of stories written about news the night before. It gets bought in the late morning then sits around until afternoon or evening. By the time you read about a bank robbery, the crooks have already been caught and are planning their escape. Many is the time, and this is true, I’ve said to Mom “wow that was some horrible tragedy yesterday” and she’d say “yeah, the Mets lost again.” Meanwhile I was talking about the latest natural disaster in which 287 Sumatrans died when their village was flattened by a hurricane.

But the plight of the poor Sumatrans is not what we’re talking about here. (Honestly, I say if you can’t stand the heat, get out of Sumatra.) It is the sorry state of television. There was nothing worth watching on TV that night, unless you want to see the 697th rerun of The Big Bang Theory where Walowitz gets shot into space, or an episode of Redneck House Flippers Live!

I asked Mom if maybe there was something she wanted to see on Netflix. She said that Netflix has all those good TV shows she’s been dying to see. How long has she been dying to see them? For about eight years, which is also about how long she has had Netflix. (In case you haven’t figured it out yet, she has no idea how to access Netflix. “What time is the Netflix on? Does it come on after Judge Judy?”)

Well this was her big chance because I actually know which button to press to get Netflix. HINT: It is the same button you press to get everything else. So, Mom, what should we sit down and watch?

“I want to see Orange is the New Black.”

I was thinking more in the line of the new Mystery Science Theater 3000.

Me to Mom: “You want us to watch a show about women getting beat up and sexually assaulted in prison?”Mom: “I heard it was good.”

So I did what any good son would do. I watched another episode of Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee (guest: Joel Hodgeson) while Mom watched Walowitz getting shot into space.

Tom Brokaw, though semi-retired, is still one of America’s most respected journalists. He anchored the NBC news for 22 years from 1982 to 2004. He’s covered every major story and worked on every major newscast spanning three decades. He’s written books and produced documentaries. He is very well-respected.

He’s also a cranky old man.

How else to explain the following “you kids stay off my lawn-style rant”? Brokaw has a short commentary series that airs on certain radio stations across the country. It is known as both An American Story and The Brokaw Report. The segments are less than a minute long and the topics are whatever is rattling around in his dusty head. In the segment below, Tom registers his disgust and offense at the apparently brand new to him trend of people wearing ripped jeans. Listen to this and try not to laugh at his righteous, moral outrage.

It really seems as though poor Tom has just begun seeing this brand new fad of “mostly women” wearing ripped jeans. I can’t wait for him to discover crocs. But he really believes that wearing torn jeans is, somehow, an affront, an insult, a spit right in the face of poor people. He really is out of touch. He seriously sees it as people playing dress up as poor people. He thinks poverty cosplay is a thing.

Plus he still says “trousers.” The last person I remember casually using the word “trousers” in normal conversation was Mr. Armour, my third-grade teacher, but he gets a pass since he was in his 70’s. In the 1970’s.

Poor Tom Brokaw, worried about all the sad, offended poor folks with their broken hearts and hurt feelings at the sight of a hipster in torn jeans.

Notice his perfectly unwrinkled trousers, even when slumming with the poor folk.

Lest you think this is just an isolated incident and I’m blowing Tom’s old man cred out of proportion, here are the titles of some of his other rants.

The Miracle of Flight Might Not Seem That to People Who Fly Everyday

There’s Nothing I Enjoy More Than Spoiling My Grandkids

Prediction: Department Stores Will Downsize to Kiosks

Email Is A Wonder, But Is Too Often Abused

I’m sure you think I made up the spoiling grandkids one but I didn’t.

And also, congrats to Fancy Ol’ Me! This was the first time I used the word “lest” in a blog post. Probably the last too, unless I turn into my own version of Tom Brokaw.